


I bet that you look good (on the dance floor)

by Little_oblivion



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: A little sexy, A little snarky and sarcastic, Bartender Tobin, Based on a Dream, F/F, Mostly Fluff, Wedding Planner Christen, but then sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_oblivion/pseuds/Little_oblivion
Summary: Christen Press is great at her job, and one carefree bartender isn't going to change that
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 14
Kudos: 277





	I bet that you look good (on the dance floor)

**Author's Note:**

> Ohhhhhhh hello. 
> 
> Look it's me. I've written 3 thousand words of fluff. Who am I becoming? Have Heath17_KO5 and lesbianrobinhood ruined me for life? Perhaps. I don't know what to do with this new life where I apparently just write FLUFF all the time.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like it!
> 
> Song title comes from I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor by Arctic Monkeys
> 
> Lets chat on tumblr

Christen Press was good at her job. Actually, that wasn’t quite true.

Christen Press was fucking awesome at her job.

With a degree in a business from Stanford University and a mind that moved a thousand miles a minute, most of the people she knew had figured she would go back to school, get an MBA or maybe go to law school. She certainly had the steely nerves that would have been required to go in for the kill in front of a panel of jurors when someone’s life and liberty hung in the balance. But that’s not what she had chosen to do. Instead, she took on a field far more daunting than any courtroom.

“Florists are coming in through the side entrance, does anyone have eyes on the bakery truck?” she asked into her headset as she strolled through the foyer, her heels clicking smartly against the marble.

Mal’s voice came fuzzily through the earpiece. “Sam just pulled up to the Northwest door, they’re unloading the cake as we speak.”

“Thank god. Rose, can you go to Crystal, help get the flowers inside? I’m going to go check on the bride.”

She knew some of her former classmates looked down on her choice to go into the event planning industry, shrugging it off as a soft choice, an _overly-feminine_ choice. To those people, she would say that they had obviously never dealt with a bride who found out mid ceremony that her charming husband-to-be had been sleeping with her maid of honor.

Weddings could be just as cutthroat and brutal as any brokerage firm.

She eased into the bridal suite, picture perfect smile in place. “Hi Julie, how are we feeling?”

The blonde gave her a nervous smile through the mirror as Ali worked on her hair. “Good! Good, I… I’m feeling a little nervous. But that’s normal, right? To be a little nervous?”

“It’s so totally normal!” one of her bridesmaids, Emily, assured her.

Christen came further into the room. “Nerves are to be expected. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bride who wasn’t a little terrified on the day of.”

“I wasn’t,” a different bridesmaid, Dana, said plainly. She was a cousin of the bride, and approximately 11 months pregnant. She had proven to be the problem bridesmaid (every wedding party had one); she was always the first to complain, the first to say something negative. “I knew that Davis was my soulmate, there was nothing to be nervous about.”

Christen saw uncertainty cross Julie’s face and hurried forward to do damage control. She leaned down so that just Julie could hear her. “Any bride who isn’t nervous on her wedding day clearly hasn’t thought through what’s about to happen.” She gave her a wink. “It just means that you have common sense.”

Julie have a slightly shaky laugh. “Right. Yeah.”

Christen straightened up, smoothing her hands over the light green fabric of her Ralph Lauren dress. “Alright ladies, consider this your two hour call. Relax, have fun, maybe have a glass of champagne, and I’ll be popping back in soon, okay?”

Her words were met with a chorus of woohoos and the popping of a cork, and she let herself out of the room. She made her way across the venue, intent on checking in on the groom, Zach, but stopped short when she realized that the bar’s shelves were still empty, with no workers around it.

She snapped open the binder in her arms, running her manicured finger down the master list of vendors for today’s wedding. _Premium Entertainment, yeah so premium they can’t even show up on time,_ she thought snarkily, rolling her eyes. As she quickly punched the number into her phone she realized she hadn’t eaten in nearly seven hours, which was no doubt not helping her mood.

“Premium Entertainment, you’re go for Marty.”

“Hi Marty, this is Christen Press from Impressed Party Solutions, I’m calling because I hired some of your barstaff for a wedding today, the Ertz-Johnson wedding to be exact, and I was guaranteed that they would be here by three thirty and it is now,” she pulled back to look at her phone, “4:08.”

“Well, they probably just ran into traffic or something on I 90, it can be pretty bad this time of day, y’know.”

The man’s carefree voice did nothing for Christen’s nerves. “Yes, I understand that, but I was just wondering if you could perhaps contact your team and make sure they’re close? Guests are going to begin arriving in under an hour and I need the bar set up and operational-”

“I’ll give Toby a call, but I’m sure everything’s just fine.”

“Okay, but as I said-”

“I’ll give you a shout.” With that he hung up, leaving Christen to stare at her phone in frustration. _See if I ever use your company’s services again._

She made her way to the groom’s suite, poking her head into the kitchen as she passed, checking off several entries on her schedule for the day.

She knocked on the door, not wanting to barge in on anyone in a state of undress, but no one came to the door. When she opened it and leaned inside, she realized why.

It seemed that the groomsmen had been just as enthusiastic to pregame before the ceremony but based on their loud voices and bad dance moves, Christen was sure that they had brought something a little stronger than champagne. None of them noticed her entering, and she grabbed one by the arm. “Where’s Zach?”

He gestured towards a side door, completely unconcerned, and she crossed into the adjoining room. She found Zach on one of the leather couches, his head in his hands. He looked up as she shut the door behind her.

“Hi Zach, how’s everything going?”

“It’s-“ he swallowed thickly. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow, perching next to him on the couch. “You’re not sounding very fine.”

“No I am, I am.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?” she ventured, trying to conceal her own apprehension.

“No. Yes? I don’t know.” He gave her a wild look, his breath beginning to speed up. “I don’t know!”

“Okay, okay calm down.” She put a hand on the back of his neck, gently forcing him to bend over so that his head was between his knees. “Deep breaths. Slow breaths. Don’t talk, just breathe.” After several long minutes, his breathing began to slow, his hands uncurling from their tight fists. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“I just… I love Julie. I do. So much. She’s amazing. But I just don’t know.”

“What do you not know?”

“I’m… scared. What if I’m not good enough for her? She’s so smart and kind and beautiful and badass, and maybe she should be with someone else, y’know? I just want what’s best for her, I want her to have an amazing life.”

Christen smiled softly. “Zach, do you love her?”

“Of course I do.”

“Are you willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy?”

“Yes, anything.”

“Do you listen to her?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you make her come so hard she nearly blacks out?”

His face flushed a deep red. “I, um… I guess. Or I try my best,” he mumbled.

She patted his shoulder. “Then that’s what matters. You love her, you care for her, and that’s what makes you good enough for her. Everything else is bullshit. Trust me.”

He gave her a shaky grin and took in a deep breath. “Right. Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” She stood up. “Now, do I have to worry about you being a flight risk?”

He came to his feet. “No, I’m good now. Thanks.”

“Alright. Head back into your suite, make sure you all stay sober enough to make it through the actual wedding.”

As she made her way to check on the flowers, she noticed that the barstaff had finally arrive. She stalked up to them, tapping the shoulder of the tall, hulking man she assumed was the team leader.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Christen, I’m the wedding coordinator for today. Why was your crew over forty five minutes late?”

He gave her a surprised look. “My crew?”

She repressed a sigh. “You’re Toby, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m Eric.” He pointed to a woman with long brown hair whose back was towards them. “That’s Toby.”

Ignoring the slight embarrassment creeping into her stomach, Christen approached the woman, tapping her on the shoulder instead.

“You must be Mrs. Press,” the woman said in a drawling voice as she turned around. Christen was unprepared for just how attractive the woman was, all tan skin and long eyelashes, warm brown eyes that twinkled as she smirked at Christen.

“I… yes, I’m Christen Press. Are you the event lead?”

“Yup,” she answered, popping the p.

“Then would you care to explain why you were nearly an hour late?”

She shrugged, unboxing tall bottles of liquor as she continued talking to Christen. “I know how long it takes me and my crew to set up a bar. We don’t need the extra time. If anything, I’m saving you money,” she grinned.

Christen gave a huffy sigh. “Do you honestly think money is an issue for a couple getting married in this ornate of a venue? And besides, I already signed a contract with your employer.”

“We’ll get everything set up in time, don’t worry about us.”

“It’s my job to worry about you, it’s my job to make sure everything at this wedding goes off perfectly.”

“Well luckily for you, my middle name is perfect,” she replied, giving Christen a wide, toothy grin.

“Christen, can you come into the reception room? We’re having a slight issue with the DJ,” Rose said over the headset.

“Be right there,” Christen replied, turning to head that way before stopping abruptly and looking over her shoulder. “Toby?”

“Yes, Mrs. Press?”

“Put your hair up, this isn’t Coyote Ugly.”

Several hours passed, and the wedding went off without a hitch. Zach cried when Julie came in, the vows had gone perfectly, they exchanged rings and kissed and everyone had cheered. Christen had steered them into a side room to grab a tiny bite to eat as the guests began the cocktail hour (a trick she had learned in her first couple of weddings) then they were making their entrance into the ceremony. As Christen made her rounds, she noticed one of the groomsmen weaving around near the bar, draining his cup and slamming it down for a refill. She made a beeline in his direction.

“Enjoying the party?” she asked him with a sweet smile.

“Oh yeah,” he said, then let out a loud belch. “Zachy’s getting hitched!”

She turned to Toby and gave her a meaningful glance. “I think he’s had enough,” she hissed through her smile.

The other woman arched an eyebrow at her. “Did you know that even at Coyote Ugly they teach you when to cut someone off?” She grabbed the gun and filled his cup with soda along with a splash of tonic water. Then she picked up a bottle of whiskey and stared straight at Christen as she covered the spout with her thumb and turned it over as if she was pouring a double shot. The groomsmen was busy laughing and pointing at one of his buddies on the dance floor. As he turned around Toby stopped fake pouring and flipped the bottle right side up. She placed a straw in it and passed it to him. “Might be a little on the strong side, bud,” she warned.

He took a sip and then gave a loud whoop, disappearing into the crowd. The bartender crossed her arms. “See, I’ve got things handled.”

“Oh do you?” Christen asked, rolling her eyes.

“I do. By the way, never got any feedback on the ponytail. You like it? Is it up to your standards?”

Christen rolled her eyes, ignoring her instinct to give the woman a once over. “It’s adequate.”

“Just adequate? Ouch. Such venom, and from such a pretty girl.”

Part of Christen wanted to snap; if a man, and a male employee, nonetheless, had called her a pretty girl, she probably would have fired him on the spot. But on the other hand, she hadn’t sounded particularly condescending, just teasing. And, if Christen was being honest with herself, something about the phrase had sent thrill deep within her. She tossed her head, eyes studying the crowd. “I’m sure you’ve been called worse.”

“Not today.”

“Well the night’s still young,” Christen quipped. “Try not to get anyone hammered while I go pull the bride and groom to cut the cake.”

Suddenly it was nearly eleven. Julie and Zach were sent off with sparklers, the guests began to trickle out, and the wedding began to be dismantled. Christen watched as the various workers went about their jobs, and eventually sank onto a bar stool, relieved to finally be sitting down. Louboutins may be beautiful, but they surely weren’t comfortable.

“Feet hurt?” She didn’t even have to look up from the binder in her hands to know that it was Toby.

“They’ll be fine tomorrow.” A glass was slid in front of her, and she lifted her head. “What is that?”

“It’s a painkiller, for your feet,” the woman grinned, plopping an orange slice in the glass.

“Thanks, but I don’t drink on the job.”

“I mean, isn’t your job practically done?”

“Isn’t yours?” Christen bit back, probably more forcefully than was required.

She held up her hands. “I mean, we’ve packed up all of the glasses and the majority of the booze. I’m just waiting for my last customer to leave.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a customer, Toby.”

The other woman crossed her arms with a toothy grin. “Uh, is this a bad time to tell you that my name actually isn’t Toby?”

“Wait, what? Yes it is, that’s what I’ve been calling you all day.”

She grinned. “Be that as it may, my name is actually Tobin.”

“Wh- why didn’t you say anything?”

“Far be it from me to stop a pretty girl from giving me a nickname.”

There it was again, _pretty girl._ Christen rolled her eyes and picked up the drink without fully realizing what she was doing. “Stop flirting with me, I’m technically your boss.”

“Woah now, Mrs. Press, who said I was flirting-”

“It’s not Mrs. Press. It’s just Miss.”

Toby- Tobin leaned forward, crossing her arms on the surface of the bar. “Well that can’t be possible, I’ve been calling you that all day.”

“Yes, but you’ve also been checking out my left hand all day, so,” Christen wiggled her left hand at the bartender as she finally took a drink. “Holy sh- wow, this is good.”

Tobin smirked at her. “Wouldn’t be showing off if I gave you something bad.”

“Oh so you’re showing off for me?”

“Maybe a little bit.” Tobin took a drink of her diet coke.

“You’re not drinking?”

She smiled. “Gotta drive home still.”

“Where’s home?”

“Boystown.”

“Oh.”

Tobin laughed. “Oh? What do you mean, Oh?”

“I mean, I had deduced you were gay, but I didn’t know you were _Boystown_ gay.”

“I’m not gay,” she responded with a completely straight face.

Christen rolled her eyes. “Sure. Neither am I.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Mm, I don’t think straight girls call their bosses pretty girl.”

Tobin laughed. “Maybe not in your industry.” She fished a cherry out of the caddy, popping it into her mouth. “How did you get into this, anyhow?”

“Hm?” Christen had been a tad distracted by the way Tobin’s lips had closed around the red fruit.

Tobin smiled. “Why are you a wedding planner?”

“I don’t do just weddings.”

“Okay.”

“I mean, it’s mostly weddings,” Christen admitted, brushing her hair back. “And… I don’t know. I’m a perfectionist, I’m detail oriented, I’m anal retentive, it just seemed to fit.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s the real reason,” Tobin argued.

“No?” Something caught Christen’s eye and she turned slightly in her seat. “Rose, make sure any of the salvageable centerpieces are put aside to donate.” She looked back at Tobin. “So what’s the real reason?”

“You are _obviously_ a closet romantic.”

Christen rolled her eyes. “Gross.”

“You are. I saw you tear up when the happy couple had their first dance.”

“I was not tearing up, I just got caught in the crosswind of one of the aunt’s horrible perfumes.”

“Mm hm. Sure.”

“Why are you a bartender?”

Tobin finished adding more ingredients to a mixer and began to shake it back and forth, the movement making her bicep flex. “Easy. That,” She pointed to one of the doorway leading out of the reception hall, where one of the bridesmaids, Emily, was standing, shoes in hand, giggling at the bartender she was talking to, a short brunette who had already unbuttoned her white button down.

“To pick up girls?”

“Yup.” Tobin poured the drink into Christen’s glass.

“No other reason?”

She grinned. “I’m an artist, but I’m not quite Picasso yet, so something has to pay the rent.”

Christen hummed. “Well if you always make drinks this good I don’t see why you would ever have a problem getting girls to go home with you.”

Tobin smirked, crossing her arms. “Oh, is that how you judge potential girlfriends? By their drink making abilities?”

“Haven’t you heard? It’s the newest way to tell how good someone is in bed.” Tobin seemed to choke slightly. “I never said anything about girlfriends.”

Tobin wiped the bar with a rag and leaned in closer. “I’ve always thought that the best way to tell if someone is good in bed is to watch them dance.”

“Oh?”

Tobin chuckled softly. “I’m not gonna take it back.”

“Well that’s bad luck.”

“Why do you say that?”

Christen smirked. “Because you’ve never seen me dance.”

Tobin licked at her lips, leaning in even closer. “I mean, I sure would like to.”

“I bet you would.”

“Christen?” She turned to see Mal and Rose standing a few feet away.

“Yeah?”

“Um… everything is done. All the vendors have cleared out. Well, except for…” Mal motioned in Tobin’s direction. “Are we good to go?”

“Oh.” Christen glanced around, noticing that the reception hall was indeed empty. “Yeah. Thank you for everything. Have a good night, get home safe.”

“Thanks!” Rose seized Mal’s arm and practically dragged her from the room.

“So… where’s all of your staff?”

Tobin grinned. I sent them back to the office with the majority of the booze and glasses. Kelley I’m sure is finding her way back to that blonde’s hotel room. I’ll take this last box to Marty in the morning.”

“Oh. Efficient.”

“Is that a turn on?”

Christen gave a loud barking laugh. “It’s a good thing you’re no longer my employee.” She came to her feet, wincing at the pain in her toes, and wobbling slightly under the effect of the rum.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can’t drive, _Miss_ Press.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can call me Christen.”

“Okay, fine. Christen, as a bartender I must do my duty and tell you not to drive.”

“Wasn’t going to. I took a car here and I’ll take a car home.”

“And where’s home?”

“Lake View East.”

Tobin grinned, coming around the bar with the box of leftover alcohol. “Look at that, we’re practically neighbors.”

“Almost,” Christen conceded. The two walked out of the reception hall, Christen stopping to thank the venue coordinator one last time before they headed to the parking lot.

“Well would you like a ride to your house? Sounds like it’s on the way.”

“Mm, no. That’s okay.”

Tobin gave a slight nod, trying to hide the disappointment flashing across her face. “Alright.”

Christen stepped forward, trapping Tobin against what she was assuming was her jeep. “How about you take me to your place instead?”

Tobin laughed under her breath, leaning forward so that her breath tickled Christen’s ear. “Depends. Do I get to call you Miss Press?”

Christen smiled, turning her head slightly so that she could nuzzle her nose against Tobin’s cheekbone. “Only if I can call you Toby.”

**Author's Note:**

> HEY. I hope you really liked this oneshot!  
> If so, please consider doing one of the following:  
> -donating to a charity in need (ACLU, NCAAP Legal defense fund, Black Visions Collective, MN Freedom Fund, BK Bail Fund)  
> -supporting your local black businesses  
> If you don't have money to spare, that's okay! You can still help by:  
> -Passively donating by watching specific monetized Youtube videos and NOT skipping the ads (there's a list on my tumblr)  
> -reaching out to your local representatives and signing petitions for change  
> -Having hard conversations about race with friends and family. Arguable the hardest step listed, but also one of the most important
> 
> Tumblr: @thetheatrelady


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